


Break the Walls

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Angst with a Happy Ending, Captivity, Claiming, Kidnapping, Knotting, M/M, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-08 20:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15251403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: Stiles is engaged to be mated to Derek, who he loves very much. But when he's kidnapped along with Peter, they develop feelings for each other, too. Once safe, Stiles has to reconcile his love for Derek with his newfound love for Peter. Can he have them both, or must he settle for just one alpha now?





	Break the Walls

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this for Triangulum, but then it didn't quite fit what she wanted so I set it aside. I picked it up again for WIP Big Bang and was able to finish. My thanks to the mods for putting the Bang together and running it smoothly.
> 
> All the love to my beta and best friend, majoline. Rogue comment placement is my fault, not hers.
> 
> Many thanks to Firebull/originfire for the art, [which you can see (and reblog) here](https://originfire.tumblr.com/post/175781806823/my-edits-for-yogi-bogey-boxs-angsty-abo-fic)!

**Plane just landed** , Stiles sends. He's exhausted because he'd been unable to sleep on the flight. His mind keeps circling back to everything he needs to take care of before the ceremony. He hopes he'll be able to rest once he gets to the Hale house, but then he'll have a whole slew of other things to think about. Like how lucky he is, and how it all feels like a dream, and how much he loves Derek.

**Peter said he'll meet you in the bar** , Derek texts back.

Stiles rolls his eyes fondly. He likes Peter a lot, but of course, he'll be in the bar. Probably flirting with every omega in sight.

Stiles claims his baggage without incident and makes his way to the airport bar. He catches sight of Peter before he's seen. Sure enough, the alpha is smiling charmingly at the bartender and another patron, probably both omegas. Stiles knows the flirting never goes farther than smiles, though.

Derek told him once that Peter hasn't been out with an omega in years. That he isn't looking for a mate. He doesn't even hook up often. Stiles doesn't know if there's a story behind the behavior, but it's none of his business. Stiles's business is Derek, his alpha-to-be.

His heart speeds up as he thinks of Derek waiting for him in Beacon Hills. The ceremony is in just a week, and then he'll be mated. Claimed. He's already gone off his suppressants, and while people claim you don't feel different when you're off them until you go into heat, Stiles has figured out that's a bunch of shit. He feels… more. He doesn't think he'd be able to explain it if someone asked, but there's a difference.

Even now, looking at Peter, his body feels… looser. His muscles relaxed when the alpha came into view. He feels safe with Peter and somehow that translates to his omega mind, and makes him feel… happy.

Peter seems to sense his presence. His smile turns more genuine when he catches sight of Stiles. The bartender and the other patron look disgruntled at the reaction, which strangely makes Stiles feel a little proud. He can't seem to help the way he walks in and gives Peter a hug. He eyes the bartender over Peter's shoulder and bares his teeth. He may be human, but the gesture is unmistakable. _Mine. Back off._

The bartender averts his eyes.

Almost as soon as he does it, Stiles pulls away, blushing and flustered. Peter doesn't remark, probably doesn't know what just happened, but Stiles is still embarrassed. Peter's not his alpha. He shouldn't react to other omegas around him as threats.

"It's good to see you," Peter says warmly. "Did you have a pleasant flight?"

Stiles shifts nervously on his feet. "It was tiring. Can… can we go?"

Peter frowns a little, looking concerned. Stiles doesn't know what kinds of scents he's throwing off right now, but he's sure Peter's wolf nose is probably picking up his unease.

"Of course. Maybe you can get some rest in the car," Peter says. He pays his bill and then escorts Stiles out, a hand at the small of his back.

Peter isn't usually so hands-on with him. His alpha instincts must be kicking in, reacting to something in Stiles's chemistry, maybe? Stiles doesn't move away from the touch. He feels more at ease now than he has since he last saw Derek. Being away from the Hales while he went to school was difficult. They were family, just as much as his father was, and while he had friends in his dorm, he was never as close to them as he was to his pack.

It hasn't been a bad experience to be away at college, but Stiles is definitely glad he's done with it. He can't wait to be home again, surrounded by family and pack. He can't wait to be with Derek. And in one week, he'll be mated and claimed, and he'll never have to be lonely again.

* * *

Once they're in the car, Peter keeps looking over at Stiles. There's something different about him, something Peter's inner alpha is picking up on. It's a little disconcerting since he doesn't have those kinds of reactions often.

He likes Stiles. The omega is smart enough to keep up with Peter and just as sarcastic. He doesn't take anyone's shit, either. He's a good match for Derek, and Peter's looking forward to Stiles formally becoming part of the Hale pack.

And it is just a formality at this point. Stiles and Derek have been dating for years, and Talia accepted Stiles easily. Peter, usually slow to warm up to _anyone_ , accepted him even faster than Talia had.

That doesn't explain the warm, protective feelings he's having as he looks over at Stiles and sees his eyelids drooping, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. It doesn't explain how he's suddenly struck by Stiles's sweet beauty. Derek is Stiles's alpha, not Peter. He shouldn't have these feelings. Shouldn't feel pride when he realizes Stiles feels safe enough with him to fall asleep. 

It's a long drive back to Beacon Hills, so Peter has plenty of time to hash it out in his mind and then push the feelings down where they belong. Stiles and Derek's mating ceremony is in six days. Peter doesn't have time for this bullshit.

He's not expecting the gunshot or the way his car spins out of control from the burst tire. He barely has time to look up before he's being shot with something that makes his head go quiet and his vision dark.

The last thing he hears before he passes out is Stiles's scream.

* * *

Derek keeps looking at the time on his phone. He's keeping an ear out for Peter's car, but so far… nothing. He shoots another text to Stiles and sits back, sighing impatiently.

Talia comes behind him and ruffles his hair. "You're adorable. Oh, to be young and in love." She smiles when he turns toward her.

"Don't you think they should've been here by now?" Maybe he should have gotten Stiles himself, but he'd had a last minute fitting with the tailor.

"They could've stopped to eat," Talia says with a shrug. "You know how bad airplane food is. Your poor boy was probably starving."

Derek grunts. "He hasn't opened his texts."

Talia sighs. "You worry too much. Why don't you help your father with dinner?"

Derek snorts. "Like he'd let me in the kitchen after last time."

"Ah, true," Talia laughs. "But the point is to do something else. Stop obsessing over when your omega is going to arrive. He'll get here when he gets here."

Derek frowns but nods. He doesn't mention that Peter's not answering his phone either.

* * *

Stiles startles when Peter moans, then hurries over to him. "Peter?" he asks. He hates that there are tears in his voice, that he's acting like a stereotypical omega who needs a strong, brave alpha to take care of him.

Peter groans. He sits up and rubs at his head. "What happened? Where are we?"

"I don't know," Stiles whispers. "We've been kidnapped." He hates the way his body shudders in fear.

But Peter doesn't notice, not yet. He stalks the width and length of the room, presumably looking for a way out. There's a door, but it's barred — Stiles has already tried it. Peter can't even touch it, though. "Mountain ash."

"Oh," Stiles says, and hunches in on himself. He was hoping Peter would be able to get them out. He glances over at the two buckets in the corner. He's not even ready to contemplate what they're for.

Now Peter notices how upset Stiles is. He frowns for a moment before his eyes go soft. "Come here."

Stiles can't help the way he nearly throws himself into the alpha's arms. He clings, and Peter rubs his back. "I'm sorry," Stiles says. "Stupid hormones…"

"Ah. You went off your suppressants for the ceremony?" Peter doesn't sound judgemental, just thoughtful.

Stiles nods. He can't stop crying now. At least he doesn't have to worry about going into heat in this situation. Omegas can't, not when they're in danger. 

He tries not to think about how hard his heat will hit once he feels safe again. If that happens at all. 

"What do you think they want?" Stiles asks once he has his voice — weak though it is — back.

"Ransom," Peter says, sounding very sure of himself.

"For you?"

Peter laughs. "No, darling. You're to be mated to a Hale heir. Of course, I'm sure Talia would pay to get me back, though I could pay for myself, but you're the real prize."

Stiles doesn't answer. He knows Derek loves him, but… what if the kidnappers ask for too much?

"Don't worry," Peter tells him. Whispers it into Stiles's hair. "I won't let anything happen to you."

* * *

Stiles's scent is driving Peter crazy. Normally, the scent of a distressed omega wouldn't bother him, not to this extent. But for some reason it's impossible to ignore. Peter needs to do something, anything, to calm Stiles down.

He starts by asking questions. He draws Stiles out, gets him talking about school, about the friends he made there. He's surprised to hear Stiles didn't get close with anyone while he was away.

"I'm too abrasive, I guess," Stiles says. His scent is starting to turn more neutral. Peter relaxes a bit, pleased.

"I understand. People don't warm to me easily, either." He smiles and Stiles smiles back, just a little. "But the pack loves you. You fit in with us perfectly."

Stiles snorts. "You're all a bunch of sassy, sarcastic assholes yourselves." His eyes are full of good humor and he sounds extremely fond. 

"You aren't saying anything that isn't true, but I seem to be the worst of the lot." Peter doesn't mind, though. He's accepted by his pack and that's all that matters to him.

"Well, I like you," Stiles says. "You're hilarious."

"A regular comedian," Peter says, rolling his eyes.

Stiles laughs. It's short and soft but it's real. "See? You're funny."

Peter is about to make another quip, but he stiffens instead. He hears footsteps. He quickly gets up and puts Stiles behind him, a protective stance he doesn't even have to think about. Stiles's fingers cling to the back of his shirt and his scent goes sour again. It puts Peter on edge. He wants to rip through anyone who'd scare Stiles.

He listens as the footfalls come closer. Stiles's breath is coming too quick, too uneven. He steps closer, so that he's pressed against Peter's back. 

Peter hears a bar moving and the door opens. Someone stands just outside the mountain ash. A case of water is shoved through the doorway, pushed with a booted foot. The light streaming in makes it hard for Peter to see the face of the person there, but he catches their scent. A beta man, a human.

He's not expecting Stiles to move from behind him and launch himself at the man. "You sonofabitch, you let us go!" There's a scuffle but Peter has to stay back, the mountain ash holding him inside the room. 

He can see now, his eyes adjusted to the light. What he sees astonishes him, though he should know by now not to underestimate Stiles. The omega is a flurry of movement, never holding still long enough for the beta man to get in a good hit. Stiles goes for his vulnerable points, his eyes and throat and groin. Their captor cries out for help, but Peter already hears someone coming.

Stiles may be able to hold his own against one person, but two?

Peter snarls ineffectually, hating the way he's held back. His fangs and claws are out, but he can do nothing. Nothing but watch as another man, an alpha this time, moves in.

"Stiles!" Peter calls, but it's too late. The alpha has grabbed Stiles from behind and is in the process of throwing him back into the room. But Stiles is still quicker than his attackers and twists in the alpha's grip. He grabs the alpha's wrist with one hand and uses his elbow, making a quick strike to the alpha's throat.

Unfortunately, the beta uses Stiles's inattention to strike him at the back of his neck, which staggers Stiles, making it possible for the two captors to knock Stiles back, hard, into the room.

The door slams shut and the bar is moved into place. On the other side, Peter hears one of them spit. "Fucking omega bitch."

Stiles is shaking on the cold floor, his adrenaline obviously up. Peter can smell it on him, along with his anger and fear. He's bleeding, too. There's a cut on his cheek and his lip is split. Tears of frustration fill his eyes and he punches the floor. "Fuck!" He sits up, wincing. Then he scrubs at the tears on his face angrily, looking pissed that he's crying at all. "I had him. I almost had him!"

Peter grabs a bottle of water from the case and then sits beside him. He cracks open the bottle and wets his fingers. "Come here, let me see you."

Stiles huffs but obeys. He allows Peter to wash the blood from his face, but when Peter starts to drain his pain, Stiles pushes his hand away. "Stop."

"Are you okay?" Peter asks carefully.

Stiles rubs his eyes. "I just want to get out of here. I hate being locked up, it feels… it's so claustrophobic, and I keep crying and shaking like… that's not me. I'm just…" He trails off for the moment. Then, in a whisper, "I'm just so scared."

"I don't think they want to hurt us," Peter says, wincing internally when Stiles gives him a _look_.

"What, was I asking for it?" Stiles asks bitterly.

Peter ignores that. "We have to be smart."

Stiles scowls.

"We need a plan," Peter says. "I think we should work on how to get around the mountain ash." The sudden surge of adrenaline Stiles had is draining away now. He'll crash soon. Peter should save this for later. He puts an arm around Stiles and draws him close.

Stiles sighs and melts against him. "I should've thought of that." He makes a soft sound of frustration. "How did I think I'd even get you out if I succeeded?"

"You were running on instinct," Peter says. Then, softly, "You were magnificent."

"I wore myself out, I think," Stiles says, and yawns.

"You're heading into an adrenaline crash. Best if you just try to rest." Sure enough, Stiles is starting to shake. Peter tightens his hold on him as if he can hold him together. "Try to sleep."

"I can't… not like this," Stiles whispers. Peter sees that he's staring at the door.

Peter nuzzles the top of the omega's head. "I'll keep watch, wake you if I hear them again."

Stiles swallows hard. "Okay."

It doesn't take long for him to drop off. Peter keeps his promise and stays awake, listening for more trouble.

* * *

Derek hasn't slept properly, but neither has the rest of the pack. Once they found out about Peter's wrecked car and their missing pack members, everyone has been on edge. Especially when they have no idea what's going on, if Peter and Stiles are all right, or what is going to happen.

But then the envelope is delivered, and now they know. Peter and Stiles have been kidnapped, and their captors want five million dollars for their return. _Their safe return_ , the letter says, but the pictures of the missing packmates tell Derek that they're anything but safe.

Peter looks okay in his picture, his eyes closed to avert the eyeshine, but Stiles…

He looks terrible. Scared and _hurt_ , and Derek doesn't know what to do. His mate, the man he loves, is frightened and in pain and possibly being hurt worse. But he can't do anything.

_We will contact you soon with more information_ the untraceable letter says. But so far there hasn't been any more contact. Derek is just left spinning his wheels, unable to save Stiles.

And Peter, of course. Derek loves Peter, his favorite uncle, almost as much as he loves Stiles. He's pack, family, _blood_. Not only that, but Peter is Derek's best friend when it comes down to it.

But Derek can't do anything.

It's early morning and the sun is just peeking through the trees. He hears his mother coming but he doesn't look up from the picture. He's been sitting at the kitchen table tracing Stiles's bruised face for hours now. Talia moves around the kitchen, putting the coffee pot on. She doesn't say anything but she does lay a hand on Derek's shoulder.

He doesn't want to be comforted. He wants Stiles and Peter back.

* * *

"They know by now, at least," Stiles says, thinking of the pack, of Derek. "What time did they take our pictures? How long do you think it would take for them to deliver a ransom note?"

"They may be drawing it out," Peter says. He's sitting on the floor not far away. He has the meal they were given recently laid out like a picnic. "Come here and eat something, please."

Stiles shakes his head. "Not hungry. God, Derek must be going out of his mind." He pushes his head back against the concrete wall and scrubs his hands over his face. He's not doing too well, either. He keeps wanting to hide his face in Peter's neck for comfort. He feels like one of those stereotypes of omegas, the ones who can't do anything without an alpha. It's so 1950s.

Not that Peter will say anything if Stiles needs a hug. The alpha may be sarcastic and kinda assholeish, but he's not cruel. At least he never has been, not to Stiles. Stiles peeks at him through his fingers, sees him waiting patiently by the food. He hasn't touched it yet himself.

Stiles sighs. "You should eat, though. If you can."

"Not until you do," Peter says. He's so stubborn. He's more than a match for Stiles.

Stiles rolls his eyes and crawls closer. He looks at the food — diner hamburgers and fries, just the type of food that Stiles usually loves. Now he doesn't think he'll ever be able to enjoy it the same way. Not after this shit.

He picks up a fry. It's cold and greasy against his fingertips. "This is not appetizing."

"At least eat your burger," Peter says, and hands over a bottle of water to go with it. 

Stiles opens the water and takes a sip. "I guess they didn't want to spring for Mountain Dew."

Peter gives him a look. So yeah, Stiles is stalling. He doesn't feel up to eating. But he does understand why Peter's so insistent on it. Stiles will be going into heat almost immediately after they're free, and he should keep up his strength for it. There's no telling how hard the heat will hit.

It's not exactly the circumstances Stiles had in mind when he considered his honeymoon. Hell, he doubts he and Derek will get to the ceremony first.

He's just gotta keep thinking about how the Hales will pay the ransom, get him back, and then Stiles will be safe again.

"You look a million miles away," Peter says.

Stiles sighs, picks up his burger, and takes a giant bite of it. The look he sends Peter says, There, you happy?

Peter smirks at him. "Yes, very good. Ten points to Gryffindor."

Stiles chews and scoffs. At least he waits until he's done eating before he says, "I'm totally a Slytherin, dude."

"So sorry. That trick you pulled with our hosts led me to believe otherwise." Peter raises his eyebrows to punctuate his sentence. He's such an asshole.

"Hosts, right," Stiles mutters. "Hey, you said you'd eat, too."

"So I did," Peter says airily, and takes the top bun off his burger. He pulls off the red onions before replacing the bun and taking a bite of it.

"I'm not brave," Stiles grumbles. "I just… I got really fucking..." He wants to say angry, but that's not the right word.

"You let your fear get the best of you," Peter says. And there it is.

Stiles ducks his head, feeling his face flame. He was scared. He still is. Who wouldn't be? But like Peter said, he let it get at him, let it take over. He attacked not because he weighed his options and decided fighting was the best tactic, but because he panicked and wanted to get away.

"It's understandable," Peter says, reaching out with a finger under Stiles's chin. He gently pushes up until Stiles is looking at him. "I don't think any less of you."

Stiles looks into Peter's eyes and sees nothing but admiration there. That and fondness. Really, Stiles wouldn't want to be kidnapped and held for ransom with anyone else.

* * *

Another day goes by. Peter can't hear much of what goes on outside their small concrete room due to some kind of soundproofing. But they're fed regularly, and their buckets are emptied. Peter has to bring them to the door and they're taken away, then returned not long after, cleaned out and smelling of bleach. Stiles is strangely okay with the buckets. Peter is worried he's pushing everything unpleasant down so he can deal with the hour by hour life. It's fine for now, but sometime in the future he's going to break down, and it won't be pretty.

And Peter wishes he can be there for Stiles when it happens. Because the forced intimacy, the moments they share together, their laughter and fear and anger, are coming together to make an even bigger problem.

Peter knows he's _having feelings_ for his nephew's mate. It's happening all too quickly, and part of him wonders if the feelings were already there, but had been written off as pack bonding or friendship. He's not sure. He's trying desperately to ignore it all, but the longer they're forced together, the worse the situation gets.

"We should be getting out here soon, right?" Stiles asks. He's leaning on Peter, looking for comfort, and Peter's not a monster who'd deny him in this situation.

"I imagine so," Peter says. He can't help but rub his chin against Stiles's head. Scenting him. "Don't worry. We'll get home."

"Thank you," Stiles whispers. Peter waits for him to elaborate, and finally, Stiles does. "I can't imagine how awful it'd be if I was here alone. Or with someone less... charming." Peter can hear the teasing smile in his voice.

"Well, that's a given," Peter says. Stiles turns his head to look at him, and they're close. Close enough to kiss, if they were so inclined. But they aren't, because they aren't in love. Peter is alone and Stiles is with Derek. Soon they can put this behind them, and Stiles and Derek will be bonded. Mated for life.

Peter breaks eye contact and Stiles lets out a breath. It sounds shaky. 

"You okay?" Peter murmurs.

"Yeah," Stiles says, and his heart blips over the lie. Given the situation, Peter lets it slide.

* * *

Derek doesn't know what went wrong. His mother wired the money, as instructed. The kidnappers sent a text — again, untraceable — with a location, GPS coordinates. Half the pack clamored into Talia's van to race there, tense but assured they'd see Peter and Stiles soon. Another car follows behind.

Stiles's father, worried that he hadn't heard from his son in days, called the Hales right before the kidnappers made contact again. Talia told him everything, and he drove straight to the house to demand more answers.

But they didn't have them then, and they certainly don't now. The communications from the kidnappers had explicitly said not to involve the police. But John Stilinski is Stiles's family, practically pack. Still, having him know everything has been giving Derek a bad feeling. 

Too late for bad feelings. John is in a car behind the van, eager to make sure his boy is okay. He's not driving, which Derek is grateful for since the man is a mess. He has been since he found out.

"That kid is all I have," John told them, voice full of emotion. "I have to know he's okay."

So he's there when they get to the spot, an abandoned gas station three counties over. They don't see anything at first, so they get out of their vehicles.

The first things Derek notices are the scents of blood and gunpowder. He races inside, jumping through a broken and half-boarded front window, with his parents and the sheriff right behind him. 

He finds bodies, and he's relieved to see they don't belong to Stiles or Peter.

"Call the police," Talia says in an undertone, but John is already thinking the same thing. He calls his station, quickly explains what's happening. Derek hears him doing so, but it's distant. Unreal.

There's blood everywhere. A lot of it belongs to the dead men, but there are other scents, too. He smells Stiles and Peter. He smells fear, _his omega's fear_ , and the worst case scenarios are all jumping to mind.

"What the hell happened here?" Talia grits out.

"Step back," John says. "This is a crime scene. If we want to know anything, we need to let the experts sort it out."

Talia nods stiffly and exits.

Derek ignores him, squatting by one of the walls. There are a few drops of blood there, where the scent of Stiles's fear is the strongest. He'd bet anything the blood belongs to his mate.

It's not a lot of blood. Maybe from a cut, or even a nosebleed. Stiles isn't hurt badly, and that's something he can cling to.

But the dead bodies, they smell like Peter and Stiles. 

"There's an empty van around back," Talia says. "And it smells like the dead men… and Stiles and Peter."

Derek glares at the dead bodies. "These are the kidnappers."

"So it would seem," Talia says. Her lips are thin and her eyes glowing red. She seems to only be holding it together by a thread. Derek isn't much better off.

"They were ambushed, killed, and then Stiles and Peter were taken away again," John says slowly. "So now someone else has them, people capable of cold-blooded murder."

Derek's fangs drop and he snarls. 

John looks wary but he keeps talking despite that. "Is there any way to track them from here?"

Talia shakes her head. "There are tire tracks in the back, so there was another vehicle here, but we can't track cars. They're long gone. If Derek and Stiles were already bonded, then maybe, but…"

"Stiles wanted to wait until he graduated," Derek says. For a long time, he was grateful for the fact. It gave them both time to get to know each other, to really fall in love, before jumping into such a commitment. But now…

Now he wishes they did have a bond. An alpha, especially a werewolf, can find his omega as long as the omega doesn't block the bond's effects. But they aren't bonded. 

Talia tries to put a comforting hand on Derek's shoulder, but Derek shrugs her off. He's feeling angry and helpless and the last thing he wants is comfort. He's Stiles's alpha. He's responsible for him. It may be old-fashioned thinking, but Derek's instincts don't care. 

He just has to hope that whatever is happening, Peter can keep Stiles safe.

* * *

Peter snarls and rattles the chains binding him. Hunters were his first thought when they were taken (taken _again_ ), but then he heard them talking about Peter and Stiles as if they were objects, curiosities. Traffickers, Peter now suspects, though they may be poachers.

He doesn't even know if they're the kind that sell parts or the whole. He and Stiles may be killed and cut up for their organs soon if they're exceptionally unlucky. He knows there's a black market for werewolf… parts. He's not sure about for omegas, but then again, someone might want Stiles for their mate.

It's true that omegas don't go into heat until they feel safe, and are with an alpha they trust. But there are ways around it, always — drugs that trick the omega's mind, magic that goes even farther than that. Stiles is vulnerable in this situation, and Peter is helpless to protect him.

The idea makes Peter growl again, and he tries his hardest to get free. But the electricity takes his strength, his power.

Their new captors know what they're doing, and they aren't fucking around. Peter's weakened. At the moment, he doesn't know where Stiles is, and that worries him more than anything.

* * *

When Stiles comes to, he's naked, or close enough. Stripped down to his underwear while he was in a drugged stupor. For a moment, he panics, flailing around, breath coming so quick it makes him dizzy.

It takes him a few moments to realize he's alone. Safe, for the moment. He takes stock of his body first. He's sore, but not in places that suggest his captors did more than undress him and throw him into a cage. There are bruises on his arms like someone dragged him into place.

The barred cell is filthy, and it stinks. Stiles is suddenly very happy he's only human. He doesn't want to think what the place might smell like to a werewolf.

That thought makes him panic again because where is Peter? What have they done to him? _Why_? He only vaguely remembers what happened. He and Peter were taken from the concrete room, blindfolded and bound in the back of a van. They were assured they were going home, and Stiles finally felt some hope that he was going to be safe again. 

They got to their destination, were taken out of the van, and their blindfolds were removed. But not long after, there was a fight.

He remembers the gunshots, how loud they had been. He remembers turning into Peter's arms, hiding his head. He remembers… not much else. He tried to fight when he was taken? He knows he couldn't do much because of his bound hands. Peter's hands had been bound with wolfsbane rope, but he fought back with his legs and head. But then someone hit Stiles with something hard, shouted at Peter, threatening 'the omega'. Then things went quiet, and Stiles was given a shot in his neck. A drug. Nothing is clear after that until now, waking near-naked in this cage.

And Peter is somewhere else. 

Is this for another ransom demand? Did someone somehow find out and want money for themselves? He doesn't think so. Their former situation was nothing like this. This cell doesn't even have a bucket. There's no bed. The floor is filthy concrete, cold against Stiles's feet.

Maybe this is temporary. Maybe they'll move him soon.

Maybe he'll be reunited with Peter, and everything will seem a little less dire.

He hears a door on the far side of wherever he is. Then several heavy footfalls. Stiles tries not to hyperventilate. 

"There he is," someone says. A big, stocky beta with a mean looking smile. Beside him is a woman, an alpha. 

Stiles wants to make some quip, or lunge against the bars, or _something_. But Peter's words days ago hold him in check. He needs to figure out the situation. He shouldn't move until he's sure. And if he makes them underestimate him by playing the terrified omega, that's even better.

"Where's Peter?" Stiles asks, his voice soft and scared. Neither of his captors is a werewolf, he doesn't think. They won't be able to tell he's playing it up.

The beta and alpha look at each other and smirk. Then the alpha woman puffs up and comes closer. Stiles wants to rip her face off. "Scared, little omega?"

Stiles strangles back his instinctive growl. He really doesn't like her. He ends up making a sound like a whimper, which helps.

"I'm Becky," the woman says. "If you need an alpha, I'd be happy to fill that role. What is it, sweetie? What do you need?"

"Becks," the beta man whispers. "What are you doing?"

"Shut up, Roger," Becky says in a faux-sweet voice, her eyes roaming over Stiles's exposed body. "That cage isn't comfortable, I know. Don't worry. You'll be in silks and jewels before you know it. Some rich alpha will pay top dollar for you."

Stiles doesn't have to fake his sudden panic. These are traffickers. He's going to be sold. He's heard of this stuff, everyone has, but he's never imagined being in a situation like this.

"I already have an alpha," Stiles whispers. Tears are pricking his eyes. 

Roger snorts. "We checked you over. You're not bonded, there's not a single bite scar on you."

"My alpha can pay you. His pack is rich. You don't have to sell me for money, just ransom me," Stiles says quickly. His voice is high and tight, but he gets the words out.

Roger looks thoughtful, but Becky just seems bored. 

"This isn't just about money, sweetie," she says. "We have a client's wishlist to fill, and he's been very good to us. If we don't deliver, I'm afraid he won't be happy with us, and we can't have that."

"What will happen to me?" Stiles asks, his fear growing. "And what about Peter?"

" _You_ are going up for auction. We'll find someone to take the werewolf off our hands." Becky looks thoughtful. "Maybe a darach."

"No!" Stiles says. He doesn't know if he's more frightened of being auctioned off like a piece of old furniture or if he's more worried about what a darach might want with a werewolf. His breath starts to come faster and faster.

"Shit, look at that, why didn't you just keep your mouth shut, Becks?" Roger says.

Tears are streaming down Stiles's cheeks. He needs Peter. He's got to get to Peter. 

"Hmph," Becky says. "Hand me the tranquilizer."

Stiles shakes his head and backs away. No, he doesn't want to be drugged again. Doesn't want to not know what's going on. But all his choices are gone, now.

They shoot him through the bars of his cage, and he goes down hard.

* * *

This time, there is no ransom demand. Derek wasn't expecting one, not realistically, but it's still a blow. 

John does everything he can. The bullets in the murdered couple are tested, and when the ballistics come back, everything points to stolen guns. The bullets match other bullets, though — murders in an omega trafficking case. 

The news makes Derek's blood freeze in his veins. He goes for a run, but it does little to settle his mind.

He's failed. As a boyfriend. As an alpha. He goes over everything, tries to figure out what he could have done differently. He could have picked Stiles up from the airport himself. Could have gotten to the location the kidnappers gave a little sooner. Maybe he could have stopped this. Maybe he could have rescued Peter and Stiles.

He shifts to four paws and runs faster, clothing left behind. The wolf howls in frustration and grief.

After about an hour, he's joined by his pack alpha. The majestic black wolf noses at him, growls, wants him to stop feeling sorry for himself. There's still work to be done, and he can't do it like this.

He howls again, long and sad, and Talia joins him. Then they lope back to the house, shoulder to shoulder. 

At least he's not going through this alone.

* * *

Peter raises his head just in time to see the door open. He watches, eyes narrowed, as two of their captors carry Stiles in. He's limp in their arms. Peter strains in his bonds.

"What did you do?" he snarls.

The beta lowers Stiles to the floor and the alpha woman, who appears to be in charge, smiles. "Relax. He's just been drugged a little." She approaches the electric setup. "Amazing what a little voltage can do. Hmm. Well, tell you what. I'll let you down to take care of the omega, but you have to promise to be a good dog."

Peter doesn't say anything. His eyes stay narrowed, trained on her.

"Don't be difficult." Her hand hovers over the controls. "I can turn this up, or I can turn it off. It's up to you."

"What do you want?" Peter grits out.

"Ah, that's a loaded question. But I'll tell you what I don't want… and that's an omega so stressed he hurts himself. Understand? Keep him calm, and you can stay together until it's time to go."

"Go where?" Peter asks.

The beta smirks. The alpha shakes her head. "I'm sure he'll tell you when he wakes up. Do we have a deal?"

"Yes," Peter says, the word as clipped as possible.

"Roger, get him down."

* * *

Stiles is tired of waking up groggy, confused, and in unfamiliar places. He startles but is immediately shushed by a soft, caring voice. 

Peter.

Stiles rubs his eyes and sees the alpha sitting next to him. He immediately throws himself into Peter's arms. He remembers everything. He knows what's coming. 

He shudders in Peter's hold. He feels so cold now, and his instincts are going crazy. He wants to bury his face in Peter's neck, breathe him in, and let Peter take care of him.

"It's okay. I'm here," Peter tells him.

It's everything Stiles needs to hear. Even though a quick glance at the room reminds him they're still in captivity, his omega-brain doesn't care. As long as he stays with his alpha, he'll be alright.

"What happened?" Stiles tries to ask, but the words get caught in his throat. He's so thirsty. He doesn't know if it's because he's actually dehydrated or because of the drugs that were forced on him.

"Here. Tilt your head," Peter says, and tips a bottle against his lips.

Stiles drinks greedily. 

"They drugged you, didn't want you hurting yourself," Peter murmurs. "They thought you'd be calmer in here with me."

"We have to get out of here," Stiles whispers. That's one thing he's completely clear on. He doesn't know how they'll get out, or where they'll go, but he knows they have to get away. His fingers tangle in the front of Peter's dirty shirt. "They're traffickers."

Peter's silent for a moment, then he growls low. 

"She said they were going to put me up for auction," Stiles blurts out. He looks at Peter's eyes, glowing red, then ducks his head. Shakes it. "I can't- Peter, I _can't_."

"We'll find a way out," Peter says, voice strained as if he's only barely holding on to his control.

Stiles laughs, a touch of hysteria to it. "How?"

"I'll think of something, I promise." He tilts Stiles's head up. Looks into his eyes. Peter's eyes are blue again, not soft but still reassuring. "I promise we'll get out of here."

Stiles should be thinking about getting back to Derek. He feels guilty that he hasn't been. He loves Derek, but Peter is here now. Reassuring him, holding him. Making him feel a little more steady.

He knows it's his instincts pushing him toward the alpha. He knows it's based on biology, but that doesn't stop the way he feels. The way he's always liked Peter, how they clicked from the start. They would play chess together sometimes, and Stiles always admired Peter's mind. He's attractive, too, and it would be a lie to say Stiles never noticed. Never wondered what it might be like to kiss him, to touch.

Stiles has an active libido and an even more active imagination. Of course he's fantasized about Peter, the same way he's gotten off to thinking about his fiancé. He's even fantasized about Peter and Derek _at the same time_ , and that's one off his favorites.

And now on top of those thoughts, he's been pushed together with Peter in a horrible situation where Peter's the alpha he has to rely on. Normally he wouldn't even think that way, but going off the suppressants has done something, made everything more intense.

And he knows… he knows if they get out of here, if they get to safety, that he'll go into heat. It's just biology. But his instincts will be clamoring at him to mate with Peter, and if he doesn't get to Derek in time, he'll be bonded because Peter will have his own alpha instincts to contend with.

Stiles sucks in a breath. He can't think about it now. They have to focus on getting away.

"Any ideas?" Stiles asks. His cheek is pressed against Peter's chest. The sound of Peter's heartbeat is soothing him, making it easier to talk. 

"So far I've only seen two of them," Peter says quietly. He runs his hand over Stiles's hair, petting him again. "You?"

"Just the two. The alpha woman and the beta man. Both of them are human."

"There have to be more," Peter says. "And the looks of this place…"

"I've seen more of it than you have," Stiles says. "There are a lot of cages, all empty. I think you and I are their first, but they look like they're getting ready to bring in more." He sighs. "I offered money. Told them we were worth more than they could get at auction or whatever. But apparently there's a client they can't piss off."

"Wonderful," Peter says, and Stiles can practically hear his eye-roll.

It makes Stiles smile, though it's a bit wobbly. "We'll get free."

"Of course we will," Peter says. The confidence in his voice makes Stiles's smile more genuine. 

"I'm still really groggy." Stiles rubs his temples. "And my head is throbbing."

"Here," Peter says, and starts draining his pain. Stiles can feel it leaving, euphoria taking its place.

"Mmmthanks," Stiles sighs. "Nice." He slumps more against Peter and Peter puts his arms around him. 

"Anytime, sweetheart," Peter murmurs.

Stiles is tired and feeling floaty. He smiles again, liking the way Peter calls him 'sweetheart', likes the way it sounds on Peter's tongue. 

He's in so much trouble.

* * *

Peter is in so much trouble. He can admit now that he was half in love with Stiles before their kidnapping, and now his instincts are driving him even closer to the omega. He looks down at Stiles resting in his arms, sleeping now. His eyes are closed and his lashes are even longer close up. His nose is a perfect slope and upturn, his parted lips made for loving.

Peter gently touches a mole on the boy's cheek. When Derek and Stiles first started dating, before Peter met him, he got a little tired of hearing Derek grumble about how beautiful he was. Derek grumbled a lot in those first weeks they were figuring things out, frustrated by how likable the sheriff's son was, even though he 'never shuts up' and 'can't drink from a straw right' and 'is a fashion disaster'. Peter wondered when Derek started even paying attention to fashion. But then Peter met Stiles.

He would like to tell himself he's simply looking out for his nephew's intended. He would love to be able to say he's just doing his duty as an alpha in a bad situation. Peter may lie to others, may bend and twist the truth to his benefit, but he's always brutally honest with himself, so he can't really say those things at all.

He's in love with Stiles, and every moment they spend here compounds the problem.

And… the problem is, he doesn't see himself giving Stiles up without a fight. Not now.

"Peter," Stiles mumbles, but he's still asleep. Peter kisses his forehead and gently hushes him. 

"It's alright," he whispers. He's not sure what it means that Stiles is saying his name in his sleep, but Peter knows his feelings aren't one-sided. So far, Stiles hasn't said anything, but they should probably address it, and soon.

But it will all come to nothing if they can't escape. He's concerned enough about his own fate, but Stiles? Auctioned off as a trophy, a toy, to some rich, morally repugnant alpha, then-

Peter growls at the thought and Stiles stirs again. Maybe Peter's holding him too tight. He loosens his hold just a bit and scents his head. Stiles is starting to smell less like panic and fear. Peter wishes he could do more, and he likely will once they're free.

Shit. He's been thinking of the inevitable heat Stiles will go into, but not his own rut. His alpha instincts are already working overtime, though at the moment they're screaming _comfort and protect_. The instinct to claim is there, but it's simmering on the back burner. Once they're safe, he's worried what will happen. He's been thinking Stiles won't have much of a choice, will instinctively feel the need to be taken and claimed, but what about Peter's own biology? If he goes into rut, there will be no escaping it. 

He will bond with Derek's chosen mate, and nothing will be able to stop them.

Yes, they definitely need to talk about it.

* * *

"It fits the MO of a trafficking ring the FBI is after," John tells Derek. John looks as if he hasn't slept. His clothes are wrinkled, there are dark rings under his eyes, and he smells like he hasn't had a shower in days. Stiles would be livid Derek is letting him do this to himself, but Derek isn't much better.

Derek decides to focus on what John is saying rather than how he looks. "Trafficking?"

John's mouth turns down. "Sometimes they take supernatural creatures, but their main focus is unbonded male omegas. Considering the rarity of them, they probably…" He clears his throat. "There are auctions."

Derek growls. "Are you telling me my mate is being sold?" He says mate automatically but the word 'unbonded' echoes through his mind. Stiles had wanted to wait until he was finished with college, and Derek had respected that decision. "If I hadn't gone along with this, if we'd bonded when I first asked him…"

"You know Stiles didn't want that," John says with a sigh. "And if you pressed the issue, he would've broken up with you. I know my son. He's stubborn."

But that stubborn streak isn't helping Stiles now. Derek rubs his eyes. They feel sandy, gritty, from staying open too long. He hasn't slept, either.

"I do have good news," John says, and Derek picks his head up quickly.

"Do we know where they've been taken?"

John shakes his head. "But there's an FBI operation in place. I don't know all the details, but they have someone going in. Undercover."

"So they can get Stiles out?"

"Think about it, Derek. They're after organizers, people in charge. Stiles and Peter are probably being held by people on the bottom of the ladder."

Derek growls. "So what do we do?"

John sighs and he looks frustrated but also resigned. "We wait."

"Wait for _what_?" Derek snarls. "My mate and my uncle are in trouble _now_!"

"You think I don't know that?" John asks. He runs a hand through his hair. Blows out a frustrated breath. "This is my son we're talking about. My only family."

"Anything could happen. Stiles… he gets so anxious, he could… and Peter, he'd want to fight. What if they decide he's too much trouble?" Derek turns away, thoughts running through his head at high speed. Worst case scenarios. 

He'd wanted Peter to be his best man at his bonding. Now he may lose them both.

John claps a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Don't lose hope. We'll bring them home."

He's right, Derek shouldn't lose hope. It's the only thing he has.

* * *

Stiles wakes a few hours later to urgent whispering.

"They're coming, wake up." Peter helps him sit, but Stiles's fear ratchets up.

He grips Peter's hand and holds on tightly. Peter, thankfully, doesn't pull away. Maybe he's just as scared, though he doesn't show it.

"Pay attention to everything," Peter whispers.

Stiles nods. He has something to do. He can't panic. 

But in the end, there's nothing to really watch. Roger opens the door to the cell but doesn't step inside. The room they're in is similar to the one they were kept in when they were kidnapped the first time. Concrete walls and floor. Door barred with mountain ash. At least this room has a toilet.

Roger pushes two plates into the room on the floor. "Dinner time. Eat up." He rolls a couple of bottles of water in, too. Then he closes the door and bars it again.

"Was it just him?" Stiles asks. He's hungry, but he's leery of the food. "Do you smell anything in it?"

"It's just food," Peter assures him after taking a good sniff. He hands a plate to Stiles, and then one of the bottles of water. 

"Thank you," Stiles murmurs, his omega instincts flaring up, happy to be provided for, even if Peter didn't cook the food himself. He's pleased, and he's sure Peter can smell it on him. His face burns.

They eat in silence. Stiles keeps wondering if he should bring up the thing between them, whatever it is, and what's likely to happen if they manage to get away. But Peter isn't talking about it, isn't acknowledging it aloud, so maybe Stiles shouldn't either.

Stiles takes a drink of water and sets it down. He looks at Peter. "The alpha woman's name is Becky. The beta is Roger." He knows it doesn't do them any good just to know names, but it's information Peter probably didn't have.

Peter nods. "Okay. Well, I think our best bet is to try to overpower Roger, then. If he slips up. He may get sloppy the longer we're here."

"Together we can take both of them if we need," Stiles says. "They're human, after all."

"We can't do it here, though," Peter points out. "With the mountain ash, I can't leave this room. Maybe they'll move us again."

"If I can figure out where it is, I can break the line," Stiles says, staring at the door, wishing he could see through it.

Peter shakes his head. "It's probably more complicated than a simple line. It may be infused with the door frame."

"They got you in here somehow," Stiles says. "There has to be a way to break it for them to do that."

"And it may not be accessible to us." Peter sighs. Stiles shifts closer so he can lean against him. 

"We're getting out of here," Stiles murmurs, wanting to comfort both of them.

Peter wraps an arm around Stiles's shoulders. "It's just a matter of time, sweetheart."

They wait.

* * *

"I can't stand all this waiting," Derek growls. 

It's been three weeks now. John Stilinski looks like Derek feels — tired, frustrated, and heartbroken. "I know. Neither can I."

"How are you so calm?" Derek asks. He's not sure if he wants to know the secret.

"There's been some FBI chatter," John says. "No one will say outright, but I think it's almost time."

"To rescue Stiles?"

John frowns. "That's not their main objective, unfortunately. But yes, I think so."

"What are they waiting for?" Derek says, wanting to snarl. But taking his frustration out on John will do no good, and only alienate him.

"They want the ringleaders. The bigger the arrest, the better."

While Stiles and Peter go through who knows what.

* * *

It's been weeks. They see more faces, unfamiliar, all apathetic to Stiles and Peter's predicament. There are no friends here, no allies. They only have each other.

Stiles and Peter are filthy. Stiles tries not to think about it. But then one day they try to take Stiles out of the concrete room to 'prepare'. That could mean so many things, and none of them good. Mostly it reminds Stiles what he's here for, and what is going to happen to him.

He panics as soon as it looks like he's being separated from Peter. He's inconsolable with his crying, and does more than a little scratching and biting — even at himself. 

"Oh, fucking hell, he can come too, okay?" Becky says. Roger frowns. Becky turns to Peter. "You have one job, and that's to keep him _calm_ , do you understand?"

Roger doesn't seem to agree. "You want to take him away from the mountain ash? Have you forgotten we're dealing with an alpha werewolf here?"

Becky rolls her eyes. "Assign two extra guards and make sure they have wolfsbane bullets in their guns." To Peter she says, "We'd rather not lose you, but if you try anything, you're dead."

Stiles whimpers.

"And this way, at least the wolf will get clean too. He's disgusting."

So they're taken down to a bathing room, but first they have to pass through the main cage area. Stiles is sickened to see they're almost all full. Near-naked omegas either cry quietly or are unnaturally silent. Stiles feels helpless, wants to stop to talk to someone, to give them a little hope. But seeing them like this, understanding how real their situation is, zaps a lot of the hope Stiles was still clinging to.

Peter holds his hand through it. His face is stony, hard, unfamiliar. Stiles doesn't know if it's the sight of the omegas or his own scent of hopelessness that's making Peter look like that. 

Or maybe Peter's own hopelessness is setting in.

In the bathing room, there are workers who aren't guards. Omegas wearing collars. They look stunned to see Peter with Stiles, but Becky tells them something and they relax.

What follows is surreal. Stiles and Peter are both cleaned in a giant tub full of scented water. Their heads are washed, scalps massaged. The omega workers don't speak, but one of them smiles at Stiles like she's trying to show him reassurance. It just makes Stiles want to cry more.

Roger is one of the guards left behind. He scowls the whole time. 

Stiles doesn't want to be put through this, but he doesn't see where he has a choice. His hair is conditioned and the snarls combed out. They put cream on his face, and it smells… funny. It's not until it's wiped away that he realizes it's a depilatory. The same cream is applied to his underarms, chest, and legs. One of the omegas even puts it between his butt cheeks, and Stiles tries to squirm away, but he's held in place. He wants to fight, but he doesn't want to hurt the omegas.

He watches Peter, instead. He makes eye contact and latches onto that gaze like it's a lifeline. 

Peter is cleaned too. They trim his beard. Clip the ends of his damp hair with scissors. In other circumstances, Stiles would remark on his improved appearance, but he's aware of how dehumanizing this whole situation is so he keeps quiet. A few tears escape his eyes and the omegas tut and smile more. He thinks only the presence of the guards is keeping them quiet. 

He wonders what they would say to him if they were able to speak freely. Would they try to reassure him, or would they give him some kind of advice for staying strong? Or would they suggest he give in, break, for whoever ends up owning him?

Once he's washed he's given clean clothing to wear. Nothing ostentatious, but a soft t-shirt and light drawstring pants. Peter's given a similar outfit.

And then they're taken back to their concrete room. On the way back, Stiles once again takes note of the imprisoned omegas. One is softly sobbing. The rest are silent. Their eyes follow Stiles and Peter back through the cages. 

When they get back and are alone again, Stiles clings even harder to Peter.

"I'm so scared," he whispers in the dark.

"We'll get out of here, sweetheart," Peter says. He kisses Stiles's hair and makes promises, and Stiles wonders if the promises will ever see the light of day.

Stiles misses Derek, but that life feels so far away. Here and now he has Peter. "Your name means 'rock'," Stiles tells him, then feels stupid for saying it. Of course Peter would know the meaning of his name. "I just mean… you're _my_ rock. You have been. I would've… I don't want to think about what I would've done in here without you."

Peter's quiet for so long that Stiles thinks he's fallen asleep. But then he speaks. "What do you know about anchors?"

"The thing that keeps a werewolf human?" Stiles asks.

Peter huffs. "Not quite. An anchor is what keeps us grounded. It helps with control, yes, but it's so much more. For years, my anchor was my pack."

Stiles swallows hard. Does he want to hear more? _Yes_ , he thinks. He wants every scrap Peter will give him. 

"You're my anchor, Stiles," Peter whispers. It's so quiet Stiles can pretend he didn't hear. He can ignore it, if he chooses, and he knows that's what Peter's expecting.

Stiles tilts his head up just a bit and kisses Peter's jaw. "You're my anchor, too. My rock. My Peter." He doesn't know why he's saying it except it needs to be said. There are too many unspoken words between them. 

Peter's eyes flash red in the dark, and he rumbles low in his throat. It's nearly a growl. Stiles doesn't know what it means but then Peter captures his lips, his mouth, with his own. Stiles goes weak and soft against him, pliant in a way he's never let himself be before. His hands scramble at Peter's shoulders, desperate for something to hold on to.

Peter kisses him like he's been drowning and Stiles is his first gasp of breath, his lifeline. It's that desperate, that needy. And Stiles feels the same, all the fight leaving him. He forgets, for the time being, why he was ever fighting to begin with.

They pull away at the same time, maybe both overwhelmed, needing to just breathe each other's breaths for a moment. Their foreheads rest together, and they pant. 

Then Peter cocks his head and holds his breath. He's listening. 

"What?" Stiles whispers. His lips tingle, swollen.

Peter doesn't answer, but pulls him to the back of the small room, like he's expecting something. He holds on tightly until the door opens. Stiles jerks, whines in fear. He's scared, god, what is it?

Peter steps in front of him, shielding him.

There are voices, shouts, but Stiles can't understand anything. It's too muddled together or far away. 

"It's a raid," Peter says.

There's cursing from behind the door frame, and Stiles distinctly hears someone mention 'mountain ash'. He fists his hands in Peter's dirty shirt. There are two figures in the doorway. He doesn't know them, but they're dressed in SWAT gear. 

"Are we rescued?" Stiles asks, loud enough to be heard, but in his sweetest omega voice.

There's more cursing, then, "Yeah. C'mon, let’s get you out of there."

"The other omegas, will they be safe?" Stiles asks tremulously, peeking out around Peter's shoulder.

"Shit. Yeah, sweetie," one of the figures says, then turns to his partner. They make some unspoken agreement, then turn back. "Is your alpha gonna let us in?"

"We'd rather us get _out_ ," Peter growls.

"We're getting someone in to work on the door. We just want to check on the omega, make sure he's okay," the agent says calmly.

Stiles wraps his arms around Peter's chest and hides his face. "I just want to get out of here."

Peter huffs. "He's fine."

"Why were the two of you separated in here, do you know?" the other agent asks.

"My mate is… delicate," Peter says.

"You asshole, I'll show you delicate," Stiles mutters, but he doesn't care what Peter says. They're getting out. They're getting free. It doesn't really register what Peter called him.

Someone comes and figures out the door. Peter's free from the room. Stiles clings to his hand as they hurry out. 

It's hard to believe they're finally free. Stiles doesn't think he'll believe it until they leave their prison far behind.

* * *

John and Derek race to Nevada as soon as they hear. The rescued omegas are staying in a halfway house, of sorts, until they can go home to their families. Derek is frantic to get to Stiles.

But when they get there, neither Stiles nor Peter are anywhere to be found.

* * *

Peter doesn't relax until they're in his regular suite at the Bellagio and every lock is thrown. Stiles doesn't stop clinging to him, not even then.

Peter goes into rut almost immediately. It's not in reaction to Stiles's heat, though that hits soon, too. Peter's driven by the animal need to claim and protect, to prove to Stiles they're safe and whole. They've both been in a horrible circumstance for weeks, and now they need to affirm that they're alive.

They barely make it out of their clothes before they lose control. They don't even make it to the bed at first, too consumed by their instincts, by pure lust. Stiles is dripping as he presents himself, and Peter doesn't care that he's draped over the arm of a sofa. His fangs drop, and he takes Stiles's hips with clawed hands. Stiles is under him, pushing back and whining, begging, and Peter pushes in without a bit of preparation.

Stiles cries out, but it's not in pain. Or, if he does feel pain, it doesn't register as such. He's far into his heat already, sweaty and desperate. Peter can only give him what he needs, what they both need. 

He knots for the first time over the sofa arm. Stiles keeps making soft whining sounds, begging, _please please_ , contorting to bare his neck, his shoulder. Peter lunges, bites, claiming him as his mate, and Stiles lets out a long, satisfied keening noise. 

Peter and Stiles have few moments of clarity after that, but this moment they will remember forever. Their bond snaps into place and they both sigh, content for the time being. Safe and together.

Then Stiles's heat surges inside him, and Peter's answering rut rears up. It doesn't last much longer, but it makes up for it by being overpowering and undeniable.

They do eventually make it to the bed.

* * *

Derek is right there when Stiles calls his father. Derek shamelessly eavesdrops, hungry to hear Stiles's voice. The first thing he notices is how tired Stiles sounds.

John asks Stiles where he is, where they can meet up, and Stiles… hesitates.

"What's wrong, son?" John asks.

Stiles laughs, sounding a little hysterical, the way he is when he's stressed about something. Derek wants to kick himself — of course Stiles is stressed. He's been through a lot of trauma. Derek just wants to wrap him up and hold him. Scent him. Let him know he's safe now.

"Stiles?" John prompts.

"I can't talk about it over the phone," Stiles says. "Peter and I are going back to the Hale house. Can you meet us there?"

"Of course," John says, and Derek's impatient. He makes a motion for the phone. John nods. "Here, Derek wants to talk to you."

"Wait-"

"Stiles," Derek says, and he knows his voice is shaking, knows he's vulnerable, but he doesn't care. Stiles is alive. He's right there on the other end of the line. "Tell me you're okay. Just… talk."

There's a sound like a sob. "I'm okay," Stiles says, just as shaky as Derek. "God, Derek, I'm so sorry. I'm so _sorry_." He's crying. 

Derek whines. "Baby, baby it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Don't hate me," Stiles says. 

"I could never hate you. I love you too much, so much," Derek says, trying to reassure him, wanting to stop his sobbing.

Stiles whispers, "I love you, too. I'm so sorry. I love you but-"

Derek whines again. He hates whatever has Stiles so upset. "No, it's going to be okay. You're safe. I'll see you soon, baby." He pauses. "Peter's with you? Is he okay?"

There's a rustling noise, and then Peter's voice comes over the phone. "I'm here. I'm fine."

Derek sighs in relief. Stiles and Peter are both alive, both safe. He'll see them soon. "Thank you for calling. We were worried when neither of you were with the rescued omegas."

"There were complications," Peter says, and Derek doesn't understand the careful way he says it.

"What do you mean?"

"...We'll explain everything at home." The hesitation in Peter's voice is alarming.

"Drive safe," Derek says. "And Peter?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for taking care of Stiles. He's… he's everything to me."

* * *

Stiles curls up in the passenger seat of the rental car, uncharacteristically silent.

Peter isn't sure how to talk to him. Their bond is still new and fresh, and the bombardment of emotion from Stiles's side is nearly overwhelming. It doesn't help that Peter's feeling some of the same things all on his own. He's happy, he's sad. He's discontent, guilty, thrilled, curious, and miserable all at once. Just like Stiles.

Peter doesn't even know where to start with addressing any of it.

"We'll figure it out," he finally murmurs, and Stiles turns his face toward him. 

"Will we, really?" Stiles asks, a sad smile on his face.

"I love you." Peter reaches across and takes Stiles's hand. Their fingers thread together like they were made to do just that. 

"I love you too," Stiles says, and Peter feels how much he means it. "But I love Derek, too. That's… I don't know what to do with that. I hate how much this is going to hurt him." He takes a deep breath and turns his head away, though he doesn't let go of Peter's hand.

Peter nods to himself. He'll just have to figure something out.

* * *

When Stiles told Peter he wanted to speak with Derek alone, he thought Peter's presence would hurt Derek more. Now, he's not so sure, but it's too late.

"Stiles," Derek breathes when he sees him. Like his name is a sacred prayer.

They're across the room from each other and Stiles wants nothing more than to fly into Derek's arms. When it looks like Derek is going to move closer, though, Stiles holds out a hand, keeping him at bay.

Confusion flits across Derek's face. Stiles knows he needs to tell him about Peter, to explain, but he doesn't know where to start.

"I love you," Stiles says, and it's not what he meant to say, but it's so, so true. "I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you." And part of him still does. No, not part. He does. He wants Derek but he doesn't want to give up Peter and he loves Peter too and this is not at all going well.

"Don't cry," Derek says, sounding helpless.

Stiles didn't even realize he was, but now he touches his face and feels the tears rolling down his cheeks. 

"Stiles, please, let me hold you. I've missed you so much, I've been so worried, I thought I'd never see you again… I…"

" _Derek_ ," Stiles sobs, and then Derek is holding him, and Stiles cries and cries.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never want to hurt you, I love you so much, please forgive me, I'm so sorry," Stiles says desperately.

"Whatever it is, we can get through it, we can." Derek inhales deeply, his face at the join of Stiles's neck, and then he stiffens. Stiles tries to pull away but Derek doesn't let go. 

"Der-"

"What is that, why do you smell like-" Derek cuts himself off and pulls Stiles's shirt aside. Baring his shoulder, his mating bite. It's still fresh and hasn't scarred yet. 

Derek shakes his head. "Did they do this to you?" his voice shakes.

"I went into heat as soon as I was away," Stiles whispers. "Peter's rut came on and…"

Derek's eyes flash. " _Peter_?"

"We're-" Stiles's voice cracks, and he swallows hard. "We're mated."

Derek sucks in a breath. Shakes his head. "I don't understand. Did you want this? Or-"

"I did," Stiles says. "He didn't force it on me or anything. We knew what we were doing."

"Do you love him?" Derek asks, not looking at him. His eyes are downcast, full of pain.

"He was there for me, kept me together when we were in that place. I couldn't have… I would have fallen apart without him." He wants to explain, but he doesn't think he's doing a good job of it.

"Do you _love_ him?" Derek asks again, and this time Stiles nods.

"Yeah."

Derek takes some steps back until it feels like there's nothing but vast space between them. Stiles is shaken, wants nothing more than to comfort him but he knows that won't do any good. What can he say, at this point?

"I'm glad you're okay, Stiles," Derek says stiltedly.

Stiles doubts that telling the truth, that he's far from okay, will help anything. Neither will apologizing again. He wants to scream. He wants to curl up against Peter and forget everything.

"I'm going for a run," Derek says, and Stiles doesn't try to stop him. He nods and lets Derek leave the room, lets him close the front door quietly, as if nothing is wrong.

Peter comes in. He must not have been far. Stiles collapses into his arms and sobs. He feels like the shittiest person to ever live. Derek doesn't deserve this. He deserves nothing but good things, and Stiles had wanted to be the one to give them to him. Now he looks at what he's done, how this must be breaking Derek's heart, and he knows he's at fault. He's not a good person. He's shit.

"Oh, sweetheart," Peter murmurs. He rubs his back, but Stiles is inconsolable. "Your father's here. I already spoke to him. Do you think you could see him?"

"Oh, god, he'll hate me too," Stiles sobs. His father loves Derek like another son. "He should. Everyone should."

"No one hates you," Peter tells him. "If the blame falls on anyone, it'll be me."

"It's not your fault," Stiles sniffs.

"Nor is it yours," Peter says. "The situation was beyond our control."

Stiles isn't sure how much of that he believes. The kidnapping wasn't his fault, but falling in love? Surely he could have stopped that somehow. He keeps thinking if he loved Derek more…

But he does love Derek. He didn't stop loving him just because he fell in love with Peter. Is something wrong with him? He's so confused.

"Where's dad?"

"Right here, son," his father says. Stiles looks up and there he is, looking haggard and run down but happy, thrilled to see him. Stiles pulls away from Peter and runs to him. 

"Dad," Stiles says, and gets squeezed with his father's alpha strength. It's a little uncomfortable but it's worth it. He missed his father. 

"I'm so glad you're here. You're back," his dad says. He pulls away to look him over. Stiles knows his keen eye picks up the lost weight, the bags and circles under his eyes. Thankfully, his dad doesn't remark on them, just goes back to hugging him some more.

"I love you," Stiles says.

"Love you too, buddy."

* * *

When Derek was a boy, his father would take him fishing. Not so much lately, but before, yes. And on these fishing trips, he learned to clean the fish. His father didn't use his claws to do it, either. He used a filet knife, and sometimes a knife with a gut hook on the end.

Derek feels like Stiles took one of those knives to him, sliced in thin and gutted him like a fish.

He runs like there's nowhere else to go. Like he has no home to go back to. When he's far from the house, he stops against a tree and breathes through the pain. This is what love feels when it turns on itself, he thinks. When it twists and takes out your heart, when it mangles it to a tender pulp. He's shocked, but he's getting over that part. He's starting to see his future is gone. It'll be nothing like he planned with Stiles. It's over.

He slides down the tree and puts his face in his hands. He'd transform but he's afraid to. He doesn't know if his anchor will hold. 

He and Stiles had done everything short of mating. They'd laid the foundations for a good bond, a good relationship. They'd been in love for two and a half years, and somewhere in there, Derek's anchor had switched over to being Stiles. His warmth, his snark, his laughter, the feeling of his skin, his well being. All Stiles. Now, none of it matters. He's gone. No longer Derek's to hold and kiss and love.

Well, not the last. He still loves him. He can't imagine not loving Stiles.

But now he's Peter's and doesn't want Derek anymore, and it _hurts_.

He stays in the woods, away from the pack, for the rest of the day and on into the night.

* * *

Stiles seems to need Peter to hold him a lot, but he's concerned about Derek, too. More. 

"Has he come back yet?" Stiles whispers in the dark.

"Not yet," Peter murmurs. He strokes Stiles's back, his hair, and Stiles sighs.

"I should have had you talk to him," he says.

Peter sighs. "I don't think it would've done much good. Not at first."

"Maybe now," Stiles says.

"You need me," Peter says. He hasn't left Stiles's side but once since the raid. Stiles may not admit it, but he's traumatized by his time in captivity. He may have had Peter there with him to make it easier, but it was still a difficult time.

"I think Derek might need you more," Stiles tells him.

Peter knows what he needs to say to Derek, but he's not sure Derek is ready to hear it. He nods and slips out of the bed, giving Stiles a kiss before he goes. "I'll be back by dawn."

Stiles nods and sits up in the bed. Peter would tell him to try to get some rest if he thought it would do any good, but he knows Stiles will stay awake, waiting for him to come back. He doubts Stiles can sleep alone at this point.

On his way out of the house, Talia stops him for a moment. "You're going after Derek? I think he needs time alone."

"He needs the truth."

"And what is that?" Talia asks. "Did Stiles leave something out?"

"I'm sure Stiles left out a lot, actually," Peter says. He sighs. "Just let me try to talk to him."

"Don't make things worse, Peter."

Peter shakes his head. "That is honestly the last thing I want to do."

"Come here," Talia says after a long moment. Peter takes a step toward her and then she's hugging him, scenting the side of his head, and he smells her tears. "We were all so worried."

And of course they were worried about Stiles, he's the pack's darling. But this makes him believe Stiles wasn't the only one missed. He closes his eyes and leans into Talia's embrace. She's not just his pack alpha right now, but his big sister too, and he feels their pack bond thrum with satisfaction. There's still worry there, still grief there for Derek, but she's honestly happy he's home.

He doesn't know why he's so surprised by it.

She steps back and wipes her eyes. "Go bring my boy back home." 

So Peter follows Derek's scent into the woods. He can feel their pack bond too, can tell Derek is hurting badly. He's blocking it somewhat, probably trying to spare the pack his pain, but Peter and he were always close. He's hoping their bond will contribute to the conversation they need to have, as proof Peter is being genuine in what he has to say.

Derek's far away, but still in the preserve. Peter finds him easily enough, though it's a long run to get to him. If he'd walked it would have taken until dawn, and he's conscious of his mate waiting for his return.

He makes some noise on approach, just to let Derek know he's coming. He doesn't want to catch him off guard, that's not what this is about.

"What is it?" Derek asks when Peter steps out of the trees.

"I was sent to talk to you," Peter says, and Derek sighs. 

"Go back and tell Mom I'm fine." His eyes are downcast and he doesn't look up at Peter. 

Peter moves closer, right up in Derek's space. Derek's nostrils flare and he closes his eyes. Peter can feel pain through their bond. Just Stiles's scent is enough to hurt him, and Peter knows he needs to stop this as soon as he can.

"Stiles sent me," Peter says. "Our mate." He can hear his own steady heartbeat, knows Derek will be confused. Good. Maybe it will shock him out of this state.

Derek's eyes fly open, and he makes a low sound, a hurt whine. "Why would you…?"

"He's as much yours as he is mine. Just because we're bonded now doesn't change that," Peter says.

"It changes everything," Derek says, but he sounds completely bewildered.

Peter puts a hand on Derek's shoulder. "Have you stopped loving Stiles? Because he hasn't stopped loving you. I don't think he ever could."

Derek searches Peter's face as the words seep into his mind. "But- you're his alpha now."

Peter rolls his eyes. "Stop thinking like a close-minded human and listen to what I'm saying. Stiles loves me, and I love him and want him to be happy. I don't think he would ever be happy giving you up."

"But-"

"I could try to make him happy, just me, but I don't think that's what he wants."

"What does he want?" Derek whispers, as if he's afraid to speak too loudly, afraid his chance will disappear once again like it did when Stiles was taken.

"He wants us both," Peter says. "He's heartbroken at the moment, thinking he can't have his heart's desire. But we can go to him, together, and tell him it doesn't have to be one of us or the other. That his future with you isn't gone."

"How would it even work?" Derek asks.

"We'd have to decide that together," Peter tells him. "But right now, I think Stiles just needs to know you don't hate him, and that you'll protect him like I will."

"Protect him?"

"I'm not being hyperbolic when I say he's a mess," Peter says. "I don't think you can imagine how stressful and traumatic captivity was for him. It's over and he's safe now, but it doesn't feel that way to him, not yet. He's… not dealing well. And now he feels like he's lost you, too, and it's too much for him. He needs us both."

"What do I need to do?" Derek asks. 

"Come back to the house with me. Come see him. Hold him. Tell him you love him, and that you're not going anywhere."

Derek nods slowly. "I can do that."

"Take a shower first," Peter adds with a teasing smile.

Miraculously, Derek smiles back.

* * *

Stiles has his arms around his knees and he's rocking back against the headboard when Peter comes back. Stiles tries to dry his eyes before Peter can see, but of course with their bond it's impossible to hide. 

"I have a surprise for you," Peter says. 

"Is Derek okay?" Stiles asks, but then Peter's stepping aside and Derek's right _there_. He looks nervous for some reason, and Stiles's heart clenches. He looks back and forth between the two men he loves, seeking some kind of explanation.

"We want to talk to you, darling," Peter says. 

Nothing good ever comes after 'talking' in Stiles's experience. All he feels now is dread.

But Peter shakes his head. "It's nothing bad." He walks closer and sits on the side of the bed. Derek hangs back, looking out of place and embarrassed. Stiles only wants to hug him, but he realizes that's probably not something he can do.

Peter looks at Derek and something passes between them silently. Then Derek moves closer too. He walks around the bed and sits down on Stiles's other side. 

"What's going on?" Stiles asks quietly. Inside he's thrilled that Derek is this close to him. That he has both his alphas, just for the moment, and he can pretend everything is perfect. 

Derek takes one of his hands. "Do you mind if I stay here tonight with you?"

Stiles smiles, but he remembers to look at Peter. This is Peter's decision, isn't it?

As if he can read Stiles's mind, Peter says, "This is up to you."

"Please stay," Stiles whispers. He clears his throat and speaks louder. "Both of you. Please stay with me."

"Lie down, sweetheart," Peter says. "We want to hold you."

"Both of you?" Stiles is already moving, scooting down the bed to rest his head on his pillow. "Please, I… I need that, I think."

"I know you do," Peter murmurs, nudging Stiles over onto his side. Facing away from him. "Let me be the big spoon here."

Stiles laughs nervously, looking at Derek. "What does that make you?"

Derek lies down and rolls on his side, facing Stiles. So close they could kiss easily. "Lucky."

Searching his face, Stiles can't find anything but honesty. 

And then Derek does kiss him, albeit on the forehead. But it makes Stiles feel loved, cherished. He's cradled between two strong alphas and he hasn't felt so safe in his life. 

"I thought there was going to be more talking," Stiles whispers, not wanting to break the moment but too curious to say nothing.

"We'll work everything out. We can talk tomorrow," Peter murmurs in his ear. "Tonight, just sleep."

Stiles closes his eyes and feels so much gratitude he knows Peter can feel it, too. And Peter… he doesn't feel jealous or worried at all. He's pleased, satisfied, and he loves Stiles so much. 

It's a shame, Stiles thinks, that he can't feel Derek's emotions as well. But he guesses he can't have everything.

* * *

Stiles sleeps fitfully. He wakes Derek several times with his crying, and when Derek looks at Peter, he sees he's wide awake as well.

"It's all right," Peter whispers to Stiles, rubbing his back. "We're safe. We're safe now, sweetheart."

Stiles doesn't wake, but he does settle. 

Derek reaches out and wipes the tears from Stiles's cheeks. "What did they do to him?" he whispers.

Peter shakes his head. "I think it was being under constant threat that did this."

"What about you?" Derek asks. "Are you okay?"

Peter smiles in the dark. "Of course." His heart skips, giving away the lie, and Derek frowns. Peter lets out a long sigh. "I need time and my pack. I'll be fine eventually. It's Stiles I'm most concerned for, not myself."

Derek reaches out and clasps Peter's shoulder. "I'm here for both of you."

Peter pats his hand awkwardly, but Derek can feel through their pack bond that he's grateful. "Let's get some rest."

Derek tries, but he lies awake for most of the night, wondering how he fits into this new situation, with Peter and Stiles. He loves them both, in different ways, and doesn't want to come between them. But then again, Peter doesn't seem jealous and Stiles…

Does he still love him as Peter seems to think he does? Is it true? Is it even _possible_? If it is, Derek will move heaven and earth to be with him, or do whatever Peter says, or anything Stiles wants.

* * *

Peter is the first of the three to wake in the morning. Both Stiles and Derek look exhausted, so he lets them sleep in. He gets dressed as silently as possible, then goes downstairs to find some food.

His sister is waiting for him in the kitchen. She doesn't say anything, just watches him as he fixes himself toast and bacon. He sits beside her at the table, offers her a strip of bacon, and eats his food.

She waits until he's done before she speaks. "Is Derek okay?"

"I think he will be," Peter says. He shrugs. "Eventually, we all will be."

"Together?" Talia asks, getting right to the crux of the matter.

"That's up to Stiles," Peter answers honestly. "But yes, I think so."

Talia lets out a breath and nods. "That's good. I know how much they love each other…" She trails off and smiles. "But then, you've loved Stiles, too."

"I never would have realized," he tells her.

"You were so lonely," she says, but then she smiles. "So I'm glad you did."

"I never took much interest in more than flirtations," Peter says, even though she already knows this. "I was surprised to find myself in love with Stiles."

"Why?" she asks. "Anyone who knows you can see how perfect for each other you are."

"Not Stiles and Derek?" Peter asks, curious.

"Their relationship is different, but no less good. I think this way, Stiles will be his happiest. I always thought it was a shame the two of you hadn't gotten together, but I didn't want to be disloyal to my son. But if Stiles can have a relationship with both of you, then… perfect."

"I hope Stiles sees it that way," Peter says.

Talia gets up and takes Peter's plate to the sink. "Why wouldn't he?"

"He's human." Peter shrugs a little. "He probably hasn't thought of polyamory as something that could pertain to him."

Talia snorts inelegantly. "Peter, _really_ ," she chides. "Werewolves did not invent poly relationships." She cocks her head. "And they're waking up right now."

"Should I…?" he asks, wishing he had the superior hearing that came with being not just an alpha, but alpha of the pack.

She smiles. "Give them a few minutes, maybe."

* * *

Stiles wakes surrounded by the scent of his alphas and he sighs happily without opening his eyes. Something tugs at his mind, but he doesn't want to think quite yet. He snuggles closer to the heat, smiles when strong arms tighten around him.

"Good morning," Derek whispers, and Stiles finally opens his eyes.

"Hey," Stiles says, and that thought tugs at him again. He frowns. "Um."

Derek looks nervous, but he smiles anyway. "I think Peter's giving us some time alone."

"I don't understand," Stiles says, and he really doesn't. He notices Derek's not pulling away from him, though. Should Stiles pull away? It just feels so good to be close to Derek. He's missed him so much.

"I've been going crazy," Derek admits softly. "Not touching you. Being away from you for so long, knowing you were in danger, and then… I couldn't hold you. But Peter brought me back to you and said…"

Stiles holds his breath. Every feeling is too big for his chest, for his mind. He loves them both so much. Too much, maybe.

Derek smiles. "He said you need us both."

"Am I allowed?" Stiles asks, breathless and full of hope.

"It's up to you," Derek tells him. 

"I didn't mean to fall in love with Peter," Stiles says, admitting it as quietly as he can. He feels wretched for it, but Derek's face doesn't go angry or sad. He smiles some more and nods.

"It's okay," Derek says. "As long as you didn't stop loving me."

"I never could," Stiles says, and is surprised at how vehemently it comes out.

Derek presses their foreheads together, and Stiles goes dizzy with want. "Me neither. I love you so much. I always have."

Hot tears burn in Stiles's eyes. "What about Peter?"

"He loves you, too," Derek says, and presses a quick kiss against his lips, there and gone again before Stiles can move to kiss back.

"How will this work?" Stiles asks.

"However we want it to," Derek tells him.

Stiles swallows. Works up his nerve. "Kiss me again."

Derek grins and then moves in. This time, Stiles is able to kiss him back, to open up to him and clutch his body closer. He's hot all over, like a heat fever, though that's impossible. He just had a heat. He feels just as desperate, though, just as eager for Derek as he'd been for Peter.

Derek groans, probably smelling his desire. The sound sends a pulse through Stiles's body, makes his hole clench and go wet. 

"Please," Stiles gasps.

"I just-" Derek says, dragging his lips and teeth down Stiles's neck. "Let me-"

"Anything, please," Stiles moans.

Derek growls. " _Stiles_." His scent intensifies. It fills Stiles's senses, makes him ache. 

"I need… I need more." He barely knows what he's saying. All he knows is that he can feel Derek's cock, hard and insistent, rocking against his thigh, and he wants it. He's been without Derek for too long, and he needs him. 

"I think you're going into heat," Derek says, but it sounds very far away.

"Can't be," Stiles pants. "Just had one." Then he drags Derek's mouth back to his.

"I think Derek's right," Peter says, and when did he step into the room? Stiles looks at him, feeling foggy, like maybe they're onto something. Is he going into heat? Is it possible?

Stiles opens his mouth to ask what's going on, what Peter thinks, and then Peter runs a hand through his hair. "You're going into heat, sweetheart. For Derek."

Stiles blinks. Derek makes a pleased sound. 

"Is that what you want, baby?" Peter asks.

Derek makes another sound and buries his face in Stiles's neck. "Smells so good."

They've never shared a heat together. Stiles always wanted to wait, afraid they'd accidentally mate prematurely. But now it's all Stiles wants. "Please… _Derek_."

* * *

"It will likely be short," Peter is saying. 

Derek looks at him incredulously. "Why aren't you... affected? By his scent?"

"I am, but I've been in rut recently and my control is impeccable," Peter tells him with a smile. "And he's my mate, and this is what he needs. I think that has something to do with it."

"What should I do?" Derek asks, then gets distracted by the long line of Stiles's neck. He scents him, kisses and sucks at his skin. 

Peter laughs softly. "I don't think I need to spell it out. And I think it would be better if I weren’t here for this."

Stiles whines and presses his body closer against Derek. He feels so good, it's hard to focus on Peter's words. 

But this is important. "I want to claim him," Derek admits. 

" _Please_ ," Stiles moans.

"Don't you see?" Peter asks. "That's what he wants. He wants us both. He loves us, and he would never be happy with just one of us. So claim him, Derek, if that's what you want. I don't know what the bond will be like, but I'm sure we can figure it out as we go along."

Stiles is pulling at Derek's sleep pants now. "Need you, Der."

Derek looks at him. "Do you understand?" he asks, needing Stiles's consent before he goes further. 

Stiles pulls back a little and looks over at Peter, then back to Derek. "Hard to think, but… yeah. Please, I need you both." He bites hard at his lip. "If… if that's what you want." He looks at both of them, asking them both, Derek realizes.

Peter walks closer and runs his hands over Stiles's shoulders. He kisses his temple, closing his eyes and breathing him in. "Yes, darling. We just want to make you happy."

Stiles turns his head and kisses Peter. Derek doesn't feel hurt anymore that Peter is Stiles's alpha, because soon he will be, too. Then Stiles looks at Derek and he finds himself nodding. 

"I've always wanted to be bonded to you," Derek tells him. "I've wanted this for years."

"Even though it means… it means sharing me?" Stiles asks. 

Derek realizes Stiles is holding onto his control as tight as he can to ask these questions and knows he won't be able to do it for long. He nods. "This is what I want."

Stiles lets out a breath. Then he smiles, and his eyes begin to become unfocused again. "Touch me. Take me. Alpha, please…"

Peter gives him another kiss and pulls away. "That's my cue," he says and gets up.

Derek hesitates. "You don't have to go." If he's going to share their omega, he may as well get used to it now, right?

But Peter doesn't agree, or at least he shakes his head. "I got him alone for our bonding, and you should have the same." He smiles. "Just don't get used to it."

Derek smiles back, then lets Stiles reel him back in for another deep, passionate kiss. Peter leaves the room and then it's the two of them alone again, and Derek understands. He doesn't want distractions right now. Not on their first real mating. Their bonding.

They've had sex before, but never during Stiles's heat. Derek's fantasized about it, had long, hot, wet dreams about it, but he's never seen Stiles like this. Stiles wanted to wait until he was through with school so they could bond then. And Stiles didn't trust himself not to beg for Derek's mating bite while he was in heat. 

They discussed it at length, and Derek loved — loves — Stiles. Of course he could wait. 

He doesn't have to wait any longer. He wonders if he'll go into rut. He hopes not. He wants to be fully cognizant of every moment.

Derek holds Stiles still and pulls his shirt off. He sees the mating mark, Peter's mark, on Stiles's shoulder. That's fine. His can go on the other side. 

"You," Stiles says, pulling at Derek's shirt. Derek pulls it up from the back and drops it to the floor. Stiles's eyes zero in on Derek's shoulders, his chest, his stomach. It's hard not to preen a little, knowing Stiles finds him pleasing.

And god, Derek loves the way Stiles looks, as well. He's lithe, thinner than he should be because of his time away, and hairless. Derek frowns a little at that, and his mind conjures up all kinds of scenarios. He comes to the conclusion that it happened in captivity, that Stiles was made to look this way. He can't deny that Stiles looks good like this, but he wouldn't ask Stiles to do it again, not with knowing it was done to him against his will. It would have to be. 

"Okay?" Stiles asks, sounding suddenly vulnerable.

"Perfect," Derek assures him. He kisses his way down Stiles's chest. "You're always so perfect for me."

Being able to touch and kiss Stiles again like this means so much. For too long, Derek worried. He worried he'd lose Stiles, that he'd never see him again. So touching now is more than just sex or heat, but an affirmation. And Derek is going to claim Stiles as his own, and that's more than he thought he'd be able to do. He thought, when Stiles came back mated to Peter, that he'd lost his one chance at happiness. Now he's eager to show Stiles how much he loves him and to prove to himself that this is real.

Stiles is real, and here, and Derek is going to make him moan and beg and come on his cock, on his knot, and then he's going to claim him and make sure they're bonded so that what happened can never happen again.

"I love you," Derek whispers, and pushes Stiles's underwear down. The scent of his slick was thick before, but now it's no longer smothered and the heady scent goes straight to Derek's cock. He can practically taste it on his tongue, in his throat. But practically is not actually, and Derek wants to taste for real.

His fingers find Stiles's wet hole and the slick that he's making. He plays a little, teasing, enough to make Stiles moan, but then he brings his fingers to his mouth. He sucks the slick off and hums. It's an incredible taste, a mix of Stiles and thick, sweet desire.

"Derek," Stiles whines. "Alpha, please…"

Derek wants to kiss him but he doesn't want to silence him. He wants to draw every desperate word, every moan, from Stiles's mouth. Wants to hear him babble his need and whine for more. He wants to hear what he sounds like when Stiles is in the throes of pleasure, and in the aftermath when he's finally satisfied.

Derek wants it all.

He lowers his mouth to Stiles's shoulder. Traces it with his tongue. 

"More," Stiles gasps. "Derek, I need it."

Derek ends up pressing him face first against the bed and kissing the swell of his ass, then spreading his cheeks to expose his wet, needy hole. He tastes him then, and Stiles presses back against his mouth, his tongue. Derek can barely think with that much omega heat-scent in his head, but he does think to check how ready Stiles is. His fingers slide right in without resistance, and Stiles practically purrs at the feeling of being filled.

"No," Stiles cries when Derek has to pull his fingers back out again. "Need it."

"I know, baby," Derek tells him, and moves so that he can line his cock up with Stiles's hole. Stiles pushes back eagerly before Derek can tease. He was going to go slow, but Stiles rocks back and takes him perfectly.

But Stiles isn't satisfied yet, not even when Derek begins to fuck him. Derek can tell it's helping, but it's not _enough_. Stiles knows it too and starts to beg for his knot.

Derek's never been with Stiles like this. He's usually demanding in bed, yes, but never quite this needy. Derek likes it. Loves that he's going to give his omega what he needs. 

And Stiles needs more than just his knot, too. He whines and bares his neck, the unmarked side, fully instinctually. Derek's knot starts to grow just from the sight. He growls and fucks Stiles harder. 

"Make you mine," Derek says, not even thinking of what he's saying. He's not in rut but he's running on instinct as if he was. He fucks his knot into Stiles's hole, and Stiles makes a sound like he's been punched. "Okay?"

"Yes, yes, please," Stiles babbles. He bends his neck even more. "Bite me, claim me…"

Derek growls and rears into position, biting down hard and staking his claim. Stiles lets out an almost silent exhale and the scent of his come fills the room.

He doesn't think either of them were expecting the bond to hit as hard as it does. It snaps into place like a dislocated joint slammed back into position. Like it was meant to be there, and it comes into being violently.

Derek's not sure how it feels for Stiles, not exactly, but he can feel his awe and raw happiness through the bond right away, but it's too big. Stiles passes out, overwhelmed, and Derek can't do much more than hold him close and wait for him to come out of it.

* * *

Peter can feel when Derek and Stiles bond. Stiles's happiness comes through their own bond like electricity, but Peter can feel more, too. He can feel how overwhelming the two mate bonds are, and he's running up the stairs to get to him, to try to calm him, before he can think twice.

He opens the door, and the scent from their mating hits him in the face. He's not attracted to Derek but smelling all that desire, so much of it his own mate's, makes it hard to concentrate. "What…?"

"He passed out," Derek says hoarsely.

Peter realized he's knotted. He smirks and flings a sheet over Derek's bare ass, but quickly gets back to the subject at hand. "The two bonds overwhelmed him. We'll need to teach him how to handle them."

Derek nods. He licks at Stiles's shoulder, where his mating bite is already healing. "Should we mute our ends while he gets used to them?"

"A little, but not enough that he can't feel us at all. I don't think he'd take that graciously." Peter gets a warm cloth from the bathroom and hands it to Derek with a smile. "He needs us too much for that."

Derek cleans up as much as he can, though Peter can see they'll need new sheets. However, since they don't know how much longer Stiles's heat will last, it may be premature to change them.

"Do you want me to stay, or shall I leave?" Peter asks, not wanting to infringe on Derek's time with Stiles.

"Stay," Derek says without hesitation. "Like you've said, he needs us both."

Peter nods and slips out of his shirt. He lies down so that Stiles is between them. He reaches out to touch Stiles's face and finds it damp with sweat and still overheated. "I don't think the heat has passed yet."

"How long did it last with you?" Derek asks.

"Only about six hours, I think, but I was in rut myself," Peter says. Which explains how the heat was over so quickly. "Our biology was triggered by events. It wasn't a full heat. This may not be, either."

"He's been through too much," Derek murmurs.

Peter feels a twinge in his heart, the memory of what Stiles endured making him feel protective. "We'll make sure that never happens again. At least with being bonded, the situation won't come up for the same reasons. And you'll be able to find him if we were taken together again."

Derek lets out a low growl. Peter understands completely. 

"I can't help but think how close I came to losing him. Losing both of you, really," Derek says. He closes his eyes and kisses the back of Stiles's neck. Breathes his scent in with a deep breath.

Peter nods. "I never thought I could love someone like this, but I do. Stiles changed everything."

Derek's quiet for a few moments. "Why did you never look for a mate?" he asks. "You'd flirt with omegas, but you'd rarely even see them casually, from what it seemed. It was like you didn't want anyone."

Peter thinks, trying to put his past thoughts into words. "I knew myself. I may have the ability to be charming and pleasant, but I don't particularly like to act that way, not for long. I thought if anyone got to know me how I really am, they wouldn't accept me. I thought I was too abrasive for an omega. Most of the omegas I've met are looking for the kind of alpha I just couldn't be. So I believed I wasn't mate material."

"When did you fall in love with Stiles?" Derek asks. His voice is full of honest curiosity, but Peter's not sure how to answer.

"I think… I think I've always had feelings for Stiles," Peter says slowly. "But I didn't have to face those feelings. He was happy with you, and I still thought I was the wrong kind of alpha to have a mate."

"What changed your mind?"

Stiles lets out a soft moan and his eyelashes flutter. Their eyes meet, and Stiles reaches out to him. Peter already has their bond dampened, but when they touch it flares back to full force. Stiles moans and reaches back, touching Derek as well. 

"Stiles," Peter says, an answer to Derek's question and so much more. 

"My alphas," Stiles murmurs.

Peter smiles at him and presses their foreheads together. "Our omega."

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the story, please consider leaving a comment.
> 
> I'm [yogi-bogey-box](http://yogi-bogey-box.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


End file.
